


A Trip Back In Time

by Redhead96



Category: Captain America (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bad Albus Dumbledore, Bottom Harry, Ginny Weasley Bashing, Harry Potter Needs a Hug, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Molly Weasley Bashing, No Underage Sex, No sex at all really, Not Beta Read, Past Child Abuse, Period-Typical Homophobia, Ron Weasley Bashing, Soulmates, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25793194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redhead96/pseuds/Redhead96
Summary: When Harry gets sent back in time to 1937, he certainly did not expect to end up living with a frail and sickly Steve Rogers and his overprotective best friend Bucky Barnes. He also did not realize the secrets he would end up learning.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Harry Potter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 10
Kudos: 99





	1. Departure

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm moving this story over from my account on Fanfiction.net (BlackHeart96). This story will be broken into (at least) two parts, so the pairing stuff is for the second part but is talked about in this part of the story.  
> The beginning of the song used is from Into the West by Annie Lennox.

Harry bit his hand, trying to stifle his moan of pain. Tears welled up in his eyes as a pulse of agonizing pain ripped through his back. The burn on his back was the cause of his agony. Sadly though, this type of pain was not new to him, curtesy of the Dursleys of course. He wanted to cry at how unfair it of a punishment it was though. He had saved Dudley from the Dementors and instead of thanking him, they took him to Father Richard.

Though the Dursleys considered religion to be abnormal, they still believed Harry’s magic to be far more freakish and undesirable. They spent years, after being forced to take Harry in, going to various churches, shrines, masques and temples to find anyone who would be willing to exorcise Harry and remove his magic and freakishness from him. All refused them, all saying that Harry was not possessed by any evil spirits or demons, except for one man.

Father Richard was not a true man of faith. He did not care for anyone but himself and the money he could make. He had entered priesthood simply because as long as he acted nice in front of other clergy and preached like a believer, then he could do whatever he wanted behind closed doors (like steal funds from the church). 

He was more than happy to cooperate with the Dursleys due to the amount of money they had offered him. As long as he got paid, he was happy. He would perform exorcisms and later, when he learned from the Dursleys that they weren't affecting Harry's “freakishness”, he moved on to a cross-shaped branding iron that had once been used to brand sinners and those accused of being witches. He had found it in the basement of his church hidden in a corner, long forgotten.

It was a great source of satisfaction to the Dursleys and Father Richard that when they used the cross on Harry for the first time, his magic "accidents" stopped for months. It had been his ninth birthday, and Harry can say without a doubt, that was the worst birthday in his life. While Father Richard and the Dursleys thought that they were temporarily sealing Harry's magic, Harry had come to realize that his magic was not sealed but in fact redirected to healing the burn before he could get sick from infection.

Unfortunately, this time it seemed like his magic was sluggish, almost as if it were drugged. Harry kept trying to focus his fevered mind but every time he tried, he would get distracted by the uncomfortable lumps in his thin, tiny mattress or the sound of his fat cousin stomping up and down the stairs, causing spiders to rain down on Harry's back. The little creatures landing on his raw skin caused him bite his hand harder to avoid screaming and annoying his uncle. Harry felt that another beating today would not be beneficial to his back at all. He closed his eyes, wanting to fall asleep to escape this horrible reality. He quietly started to hum a lullaby that danced on the edges of his memories.

"Lay down  
Your sweet and weary head  
The night is falling  
You have come to journey's end…" Harry hummed as he fell into a fitful slumber.

While Harry slept, a man appeared in the cupboard next to him. Had anyone looked in they would have wondered how a man 7 feet tall could fit in such a small space. It was almost as if the cupboard had grown to accommodate this man's size.

The man reached out a bleached bone white hand, running his long slender fingers through Harry's raven hair. His Killing curse green eyes narrowed -it appeared as though it had been hacked with a weed cutter, the jagged edges showing as he shifted Harry's hair. Apparently Petunia had been less than careful with her attempts at barbering. A brush appeared in the man's hand, and with a startling gentleness, he brushed Harry's hair. With each stroke, the hair grew back in spots and when it was all the same length, it began to grow even longer. By the time the odd, gentle giant man had stopped, Harry's hair reached below his waist.  
The brush disappeared from the man's hand. He reached behind his head and pulled down his horsetail, removing the tie that bound it together. Inky black hair cascaded around his face, swallowing up all the light that touched it. Then he quickly and efficiently braided Harry's now-beautiful hair, tying it off with his own hair tie.

He reached over and flicked the spiders off of Harry's back. His hand hovered over the burn for a moment, eyes tracing the burn. It started at Harry's hairline on the back of his neck, reaching down to the dimples above his backside, and spanning from the tip of one shoulder blade to the other. Each angry line in Harry's smooth, pale flesh was 4.5 inches wide, and the man could see that the burn was sunk in and scarred from many repeated burns. He could see blackened trenches with veins of red where the pieces of burnt skin no longer met. The edges of the burn were puffy, swelling from the infections that were taking root there.  
The man's hand started to glow but he flinched back, swearing under his breath, as blue light crackled in the air between his hand and Harry’s back. He was not allowed to interfere beyond a certain point. So, he grabbed one of Dudley's old shirts and dressed Harry. He pressed a loving kiss to Harry's lightning bolt scar before disappearing in a flash of light. When the light dissipated, Harry too, was gone.


	2. Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, so I have a couple things I need to mention. There is going to be some xenophobic and homophobic language in this chapter. I do not support either thought process. These are just to try and illustrate the time period a little better as any type of homosexual activity was actively illegal in many parts of the country. It was also VERY much frowned upon and could get a person killed depending on where they were.

James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes grunted as he dropped the crate he was carrying onto the stack. He could smell the spices inside, making his stomach growl. He winced and went to retrieve the next crate. He had to move as many as he could before his shift was over, because the more he moved the more he was paid. He had skipped lunch to try and get ahead of his work but unfortunately that had not panned out how he had planned. Such was the life working in the port. Bucky needed all the money he could get with Steve being sick again and unable to get out of bed, let alone work. Without his added income the bills had started to stack up. Especially the doctor bills; even although the man was giving them a discount, he still had to charge them.

Therefore, for the last two weeks the majority of Bucky’s income went to pay the rent, the utilities and the doctor. What little was left over was spent on food. Bucky fed and cared for Steve the best he could, trying to help him feel better with the best food he could afford, and cheerful banter to go with it. Though Bucky couldn’t help but wonder if his food was in fact making Steve worse because Bucky’s cooking was abysmal. Luckily, when she had enough to spare, his Ma would bring some leftovers over.

Roughly take a up the next crate, Bucky heard a small whimper from inside. He froze, listen carefully. It wasn’t uncommon to find half alive animals inside the crates and each time Bucky found them, he told them that they were lucky that they had fallen into Howard Stark’s shipping crates. Howard Stark's ships would only take two to three days to travel across the ocean from Europe to New York, while other vessels took longer. Bucky guessed it paid to be rich. Women fell across Stark’s feet and men wanted to make business deals therefore everything was done much faster.

Bucky lightly rocked the crate, causing another small cry to emerge from within. Now that he thought about it, the whimper did not sound like any small animal he had heard before. Quickly, but gently, setting down the crate, Bucky grabbed a nearby crowbar and popped the lid off. The smell of iron struck him in the face. Finding stowaways was not an uncommon ordeal, however their crates would usually ooze the smell of feces and urine, not blood. 

Peering in, Bucky bites back a cry of shock. Inside the crate was a small looking boy curled up on his side, in a fetal position. He did not look like he could be more than twelve years old. His limbs were thin and delicate, appearing as though they might snap if Bucky touched them. His raven hair might have once been in a braid but now it was tangled and had blood crusted in it. His face was gaunt, covered in a sheen of sweat, spots of color glowed on his cheeks. 

Bucky reached into the crate and brushed his fingers down the boy’s cheek. He swore as he felt the heat radiating off the boy. His temperature was dangerously high and he needed medical attention as soon as possible. Carefully picking him up, Bucky had to fight back a shudder at how light the boy was. He was lighter than Steve, which Bucky had never though possible. He ran to the boss’s office, kicking the door open. The man sitting behind the desk was an overly fat man who at one time might have been a handsome young man but now was a harsh, cruel eyed business man. His head had snapped up at the loud bang the door made against the wall and he glared at Bucky.

“Barnes, what in the Devil’s name are you doing in here?” The boss’s eyes slowly lowered to the boy cradled in Bucky’s arms. “Oh, another one. Just dump him off the pier and get back to work. Stark’s ship will not empty itself.”

“But sir-” Bucky starts but the boss interrupts him.

“But nothing Barnes. The damn kid is a stowaway. He probably caused trouble at home and decided it was a good idea to freeload his way to America. We have no obligation to give illegal pieces of trash anything, especially expensive medical care. Kick him off the pier and be done with him. Now get out of my office.”

Bucky gritted his teeth as he left the office. He hated his boss. The man was a cold hated bastard who hated everyone who came from outside of America, hell the man could barely stand people who came from the west coast of America trying to find different opportunities. A rattling cough breaks through Bucky’s dark thoughts about his boss.  
Quickly casting his eyes around, they land on one of his co-workers. The man had sworn that he owed Bucky a favor when his brother had shown up one day last year to tell him that his wife was in labor and that she had gone to the hospital because she had been losing too much blood. Bucky had finished unloading the man’s workload so he could go see his wife.

Letting out a shrill whistle, Bucky caught the man’s attention. “Paul, I need to get this kid to the hospital, can I call you in on that favor?”

Paul smiled, “Got ya’ back, Bucky.”

Bucky gave Paul a tired grin and ran off in the direction of the hospital. While he was running, he took in more details about the boy. Whoever this boy was, he did not live an easy life, that was for sure. A bruise was fading from his right cheek and his left arm laid awkwardly across his body, his elbow looking swollen and the forearm was not as straight as it should be. Bucky’s eyes slowly drifted back to the boy’s face. He could not understand how anyone would want to harm such a beautiful child. The boy had a small button nose set nicely on his heart-shaped face. His cheeks had an aristocratic curve, making the boy look like he belonged in one of those old portraits of nobles not in the humongous tattered rags that hung from his lithe frame. Bucky’s eyes caught on the boy’s lips and lingered there. They were chapped and bitten yet, somehow, they still looked soft and kissable. A strange thought fluttered across Bucky’s mind. What would it be like to taste those lips? Were they as soft as they looked?

Shaking his head violently to rid himself of those sinful, horrible thoughts. They were disgusting, dirty. Thoughts like that should only ever be applied to a dame, never to a male. Men were not supposed to feel for other men in that way, for it was against the will of God. 

As he passed through the doors of the hospital, Bucky tore himself from his uncharacteristic and disconcerting thoughts. He quickly caught the attention of the closest nurse. She stared at the boy in his arms in shock. 

“I found this boy in a shipping crate. He has a high fever, multiple bruises and I think he’s bleeding but I can’t tell from where.”

“Very well, sir. We’ll take him off your hands. We’ll take good care of him, so place him on the gurney and you can head on your way.” The nurse gestured to a nearby gurney as she started to move to grab the attention of a passing doctor.

Just as Bucky was about to place the boy on the gurney though, the boy’s eyes snapped open. They stared up at him, the startling green eyes glazed over in pain. They slowly drifted from Bucky’s face to the nurse that was approaching. They became surprising clear within a second. Bucky followed the boy’s gaze and saw it was locked on the cross that the woman was wearing. The boy’s hands weakly started clutching Bucky’s shirt and he tried to move closer to Bucky.

It was then that Bucky noticed that the boy was saying something. It started out as barely a whisper before rising into a terrified scream of words. “No! No! I promise I’ll be good! Please don’t give me to them! I won’t be a freak anymore, please! I promise I’ll be normal!” The boy’s British accent shocked Bucky as those unnatural green eyes focused back on him. “Please, don’t leave me…” The boy’s eyes rolled back and he passed out in Bucky’s arms.

Bucky looked up to the nurse. She was staring at the boy in shock along with all the other nurses, doctors and patients that were in the room. Some were even poking their heads out of doors leading off the room. In that moment, Bucky made his decision. He would not leave the boy here. He couldn’t. Not after what he had just witnessed.

A thought then occurred to him. The doctor was visiting Steve today. He was supposed to arrive at their apartment at 5:00 PM. Glancing at the clock on the wall as he hurriedly carried the boy out of the hospital, he saw that it was about 4:00 PM. If he hurried it would take him about an hour to get home.

Holding the boy closer as he hastened, silently praying that the boy would make it.


End file.
